


Triumfadores

by shell



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: M/M, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2806580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shell/pseuds/shell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was Jake Jensen, ex-Special Forces, current middle-school teacher. There was nothing that could faze him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Triumfadores

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tommygirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommygirl/gifts).



> I got some inspiration from some of the comics canon, although the spirit of this is much more in line with the movie. I hope you enjoy it, Tommygirl!
> 
>  _Triumfadores_ is Spanish for "winners."

There were days when Jake didn't even think about it anymore. 

Okay, that was a lie. He maybe didn't wake up screaming every single night anymore (and boy had that been fun when he'd been staying with June and Rory), but he never forgot. He especially never forgot Cougar. Jake loved Cougar, and it wasn't the kind of brother-in-arms love he felt for Pooch.

It might have been easier if Cougar were around--Jake was well-practiced at ignoring his feelings when the source of those feelings was there to notice anything he let slip--but it had been nearly two years since Cougar had left on his vision quest or whatever it was. Cougar had told Jake he didn't know how long he'd be gone, had told him he'd be out of touch for some time, but _two years,_ that was too fucking long, and, yes, Jake _did_ think about him every day. Honestly, Jake was worried about him.

Because two years.

Because Cougar.

It's not like he'd seen that much of Cougar in the two years before he left. He hadn't seen much of anyone except Pooch. The team was never as close after LA, despite their brief rapprochement over Pooch Junior's birth and the Petunias' righteous come-from-behind win against the Marigolds. The whole Roque thing had festered something terrible. Once they finally tracked Max down in Switzerland and Aisha put a couple of (dozen) bullets in him, they'd all kind of gone their separate ways. Jake hadn't cared if he ever saw Clay again, much less Aisha.

Not seeing Cougar, on the other hand--no lie, that one hurt, even though he understood why it had happened. Cougar had never gotten over Bolivia; the deaths of those children had broken something in him that had never healed. That plus Roque's betrayal was too much. Jake understood. It just didn't help when he was missing the best friend he'd ever had.

Most days he could put it away with everything else from his time as a Loser; it was just that he had to do it again each day. Usually by the time he got to school he was fine, which was good, because it turned out it required all of Jake's considerable stores of energy to deal with five classes of 30 seventh and eighth grade math students bound and determined to find every one of their teachers' buttons and press them repeatedly. Jake was made of sterner stuff than most of his colleagues--see: Special Forces--so he'd gone into his first day of student teaching confident he'd have no problems. He'd even mostly been right. 

It turned out that SERE training wasn't the only helpful thing Jake brought to teaching middle school. Having a twelve-year-old niece stood him in good stead, as did a personal history of being the nerd no one liked from elementary school. And middle school, high school, basic training…basically everywhere, until the day he joined the Losers. Jake had actually learned a few things about social interactions since then. The ease with which he'd taken to (and taken control of) a room of rowdy kids had surprised the hell out of the woman he'd been placed with as a student teacher, although June had scoffed that of course the kids liked him, since he'd never grown up past the age of thirteen himself. 

Which brought him here, at the end of his first semester as an actualfax, full-time teacher. He wasn't paid enough to keep up on the latest gaming tech, much less every other kind of tech, but he still had plenty of Max's ill-gotten gains tucked away--his paycheck didn't matter. Knowing he'd managed to get a few of the kids that struggled the hardest actually understanding basic algebra was its own reward.

He would need some more tangible sort of reward for surviving the last week before winter break, though. He was done waiting--he was getting the rest of the MCU Hot Toys. He still needed Hawkeye (who would have guessed that _Hawkeye_ would be the one that was worth the most? Not Jake, clearly, who'd thought he'd have plenty of time to order Earth's Most Boring Hero. Must be the Jeremy Renner factor.), Hulk, and at least one of the Iron Men (there were so may Iron Men, probably too many, but Jake was nothing if not a completist). After that, he'd probably level up some more on Dragon Age, or maybe play some Spaceteam with June, Rory, and Jolene. 

He was plotting his bidding strategy and pretending not to notice half the students were ignoring the completely awesome holiday-themed problem set he'd given them when Glenda, the student aide, knocked and stuck her head in the door. "Mr. Jensen? They need you in the principal's office."

Who the fuck would name their daughter _Glenda_ in the twenty-first century? Jake felt sorry for the girl, he really did, as only someone named Jacob Jefferson Jensen could.

Jake suppressed the brief terror the words "principal's office" still incited and nodded calmly. Judging by the eyeroll Glenda gave him, he wasn't entirely successful at appearing unaffected. Maybe she was secretly from the fifties, a sixty-something woman stuck in middle school hell. Jake would have rolled his eyes, too. He loved his job, but you couldn't pay him enough to go back to middle school. 

"Sit tight, kids, I'll be right back," he said, knowing full well the chaos that would descend once he walked out of the door. The bell was going to ring in ten minutes anyway, so it wasn't like they could get into that much trouble.

He walked confidently into the office. He was Jake Jensen, ex-Special Forces, current middle-school teacher. There was nothing that could faze him. 

Except maybe the man standing at the receptionist's desk. "Sergeant Jensen," he said. He had less hair and a bigger gut than the last time Jake had seen him, but he was still dressed in the typical mid-range dark suit that screamed of one of the alphabet agencies, in this case the FBI.

"Agent Stegler," Jake said. "It's just plain Mr. Jensen these days. As I remember it, the terms of my agreement with the United States government included never having to see you again." They'd also included an honorable discharge and a promotion, which was better than he'd expected. In return, Jake had testified before a secret Senate subcommittee that had, as far as Jake could tell, done precisely jack and shit to prevent anything like Max from happening again.

"Believe me, I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to be," Stegler said. "Is there someplace private where we could talk?"

"You're going to have to give me more than that if you want to avoid me escorting you out the door," Jake said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Stegler had to be pushing sixty--hey, maybe he knew what had happened to Glenda--and Jake had, if anything, bulked up since his discharge. June had insisted he eat more than junk food, and Jake had mostly kept that up since he'd moved out.

Stegler frowned like he wasn't impressed, but Jake knew better. FBI training had nothing on Special Forces. "It's about your buddy Alvarez," he said, and all of a sudden Jake was paying very close attention. 

"Follow me," he said, pivoting sharply on his heel and walking rapidly down the hall and into the teachers' lounge. Carol Miller and Rayanne Scarlotti were sitting at a table, looking at Zappo's on Carol's laptop. "I need the room," he said. They left without a word after they saw his face.

Jake leaned against the wall, arms once again crossed in front of him, looked at Stegler, and said, "We're alone. Talk."

"What do you know about what Alvarez has been up to the last year or so?" Stegler asked. 

"Nothing," Jake said. 

Stegler nodded like he'd expected Jake's response. Which he should have. Even if Jake _had_ known something, he wouldn't have told Stegler.

"You remember a few years ago when I offered you a position with the FBI?" Stegler asked.

Jake frowned and took a step back, shaking his head. "No. No fucking way."

"Alvarez accepted," Stegler continued. Jake kept shaking his head as Stegler told him that apparently Cougar's supposed vision quest had instead been an two year undercover gig trying to figure out whether the newest guy claiming to be Max was actually working with Vladimir Putin or playing him the way the old Max had played the DOD.

To add to the fun, the last time Stegler heard from Cougar (two _months_ ago, damn it), he'd said Max and Putin were working on a mind control device. Just what Jake wanted for Christmas. And he was doing it in fucking Switzerland, which was not nearly as much fun as _Heidi_ made it out to be, especially if you were dealing with an evil mastermind. Jake knew this from experience.

He was on a plane to Geneva twelve hours later. He'd have preferred to leave a lot earlier, but Stegler was determined to set him up with a detailed cover instead of the vague techie or fast food persona Jake usually assumed. Jake hoped it would be worth the extra wait.

***  
Six--or five? maybe seven? Jake wasn't entirely sure--days after he arrived in Switzerland, it was already worse than the last time. Which was saying something, because he'd barely made it out alive then. That probably wasn't going to happen this time, he figured, in between singing "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" as loudly as he could. He hadn't seen any mind control device yet, and he had no proof that he could do anything to guard against it if he did encounter it, but hey, singing songs and nursery rhymes in your head always worked against psychics in scifi. It couldn't hurt, and it might just help. Besides, it pissed the guards off, and Jake was always in favor of that.

Singing didn't help with the beatings, though. Or the electrical burns, or the knives. Wasn't any help for those beyond the usual "lie back and think of England" schtick. Or, in Jake's case, think of Rory, and June, and…shit, _Cougar._

He had to be careful how he thought about Cougar. It would be way too easy to dwell on the negatives, so Jake built a picture in his head. It was of Cougar wearing nothing but his boxers. You'd think if they'd taken the trouble of putting Jake in a cell, stripped to his undies, the least they could do would be putting a practically naked Cougar in there with him. They'd even let him keep his glasses this time. Seeing Cougs in his boxers would almost make it worth being captured and tortured worth it. 

Seeing Cougar would mean that Cougar was alive.

Cougar _was_ alive; anything else was simply inconceivable, and, yes, Jake did know what that word meant, thank you very much. Cougar was either in another cell somewhere--if Cougar were free, he'd have found Jake already--or they'd put him under mind control. Jake would have to break out, find him, and perform a cognitive recalibration as needed. Easy peasy. He just had to dislocate his thumb (and maybe his shoulder), get out of his shackles, disable or kill the guards, hack the security system, find Cougar, and get him out. Or, if necessary, hit him really hard in the head. 

He just hoped there weren't any alien gods with blue scepters involved, because he didn't want to fight any space whales. At least not until he'd gotten some water. Just give him some food and some sleep, and maybe some ibuprofen, just to take the edge off, and then he could tackle the space whales.

He didn't have the luxury of time--he knew they were getting tired of beating him up. They'd do whatever else they were going to do soon. 

Jake wasn't sure if he'd prefer mind control or death, honestly. Either way, he had to get out. Dislocating his thumb was easier than it used to be, which happens with joints you'd dislocated more than once. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to get him out of the very tight shackles they'd placed him in, and he wasn't sure dislocating anything else was going to help. He was wishing he had prehensile toes, and maybe a tail (a prehensile tale would be really useful at a time like this), when the guards he'd dubbed "Thanos" and "Malekith" showed up again.

"Gentlemen, what new and exciting implements of torture have you brought to use on me this time?" Jake asked, grinning with as much manic enthusiasm as he could muster. Then he started singing "Jingle Bell Rock."

As usual, neither Thanos nor Malekith responded, although Malekith's scowl deepened, which Jake hadn't even known was possible. There was someone standing behind them, covered in shadow, all Dramatic Moment with Evil Leader of Evil Organization Lurking Evilly. Looked like Jake might finally meet the new guy posing as Max.

"What the actual fuck?" Jake shouted as Max-- _actual_ Max, not someone new--stepped into the light. "We fucking _killed you,_ asshole! What are you, some sort of clone?"

"You know, I am, in a way," Max said with a theatrical shrug. He wore the signature black leather glove, but on his right hand rather than his left, which just added to the weirdness. "Thanks for killing my brother, by the way. I wasn't sure how I felt about it at first, but it turns out I don't like sharing."

"You're fucking kidding me," Jake said, shaking his head. "Twins? Really?"

"Really," Max said. "Truly. Really truly."

"I don't think I've ever met an evil twin before," Jake said. "Are you still an evil twin if both of you are evil?"

"Is it evil to want the best for America?" Max asked. The scary thing was, Jake was half convinced he meant it. "Bring him," he said to the guards, turning his back and walking away. 

This was Jake's chance to escape. Once they'd taken his legs out of the shackles, Jake elbowed Malekith in the throat--it was a good thing he hadn't dislocated his shoulder, because that would have made it a lot more difficult. Malekith went down hard as Jake got Thanos with a spinning kick. Max stood aside as he rushed into the hallway, which really should have warned Jake, but he still managed to be surprised when he was immediately surrounded by about a dozen henchmen who made Thanos and Malekith look small and meek. 

" _Shit,"_ Jake said, holding his hands up. At least the guns (the many, many large automatic weapons) weren't pointed at his dick this time. The henchmen were _huge;_ NBA-level tall and NFL-level wide. Maybe Max was genetically designing henchmen in his spare time. Jake decided to dub them Jotuns, because if he was going to get taken down, he'd prefer to blame it on the Frost Giants.

***  
They led him down a series of long tunnels, past various locked doors, some with windows (there were a surprising number of rooms filled with generic office cubicles--not your usual underground fortress), some without. Eventually one of the Jotuns waved a security card in front of an elevator. Max waved his gloved hand at the control panel, and just like that Jake, Max, and half the Frost Giants were traveling down. 

In Jake's experience, it was never a good sign when they took you even further below ground. Sure enough, the cavernous room they arrived at pretty much screamed Evil Megalomaniac Death and Destruction Woe Betide. 

Also, there was Cougar, also in his boxers (so, no on the mind control, presumably), scowling as only Cougar could scowl, at least until he saw Jake. Then his eyes went wide, his face full of anguish for a second before he regained control. 

There was something inherently wrong with seeing Cougar clean-shaven, short-haired, and without his hat. Jake had seen Cougs in his undies before, but he'd never seen him look this vulnerable, and not just because his face was exposed. It made Jake's chest ache. Nothing should ever make Cougar look like that. 

"Great, now that everyone's here, let's get started!" Max said, clapping his hands and smiling. The Jotuns apparently knew what that meant--the closest one nudged Jake towards Cougar. Since that was where Jake wanted to go in the first place, he didn't put up any resistance. 

Contrary to popular belief, Jake was, in fact, capable of communicating without a lot of words--especially where Cougar was concerned. It appeared that two years apart hadn't affected their ability to read each other. Cougar indicated that he was concerned about the damage Jake had taken, Jake reassured him that he was fine to fight, and Cougs indicated that he was regretfully without a plan. Jake let him know that if he had to die, he was glad that at least he'd die with Cougar; Cougar returned the sentiment. 

The only words they spoke were each other's names. 

The Jotuns, whom Jake suspected of working for Chyron, realized quickly that threatening to shoot either of them wasn't going to get them to put their hands on the shiny yellow oblong device in the center of the room, the one surrounded by more equipment than the Tesseract at Pegasus and hooked up to a tablet held by, you guessed it, Max. 

When Jake and Cougar refused, they threatened to shoot Cougar in the leg. When that didn't work, they threatened to shoot Jake in the dick and make Cougar watch him bleed out. 

Jake looked at Cougar and indicated that he'd rather be shot in the dick and bleed out than do something Max wanted. Cougar shook his head and placed his left hand on the sphere. 

Cougar must have come up with a plan, or so Jake told himself. The thing was, if the choice was seeing them take control of Cougar (and they were probably going to make him kill Jake, because Evil) or hoping the two of them would find a way to fight the device, together, well. Jake took his place where Cougar indicated, on the opposite side of the device, and placed his hands there as well, spread wide, like Cougar's were…holy shit Cougar _did_ have a plan.

He watched Cougar carefully, bracing his feet against the floor and getting ready. Cougar breathed in and out through his mouth twice the way he did when he was getting ready to take a shot. The device was glowing now, getting brighter by the second. They needed to act quickly.

It came out of its moorings a little easier than either of them were expecting, and they nearly lost control of it. Sparks were going off all around them. Jake got ready to throw it at Max, but before he could, Max hit the touchscreen of the tablet quite decisively with his index finger, and the device grew so bright that Jake had to close his eyes. He couldn't move; his hands felt welded in place, and he no longer wanted to throw it at Max. 

The brightness dimmed. Jake was still stuck, but there was something happening in his brain, pulling him into the depths of…something. It felt both familiar and foreign, like the first time you try a new and different version of chicken soup. Jake fought it at first, but it wasn't evil. It reminded him of the time he and June had gone to a spring-fed pool when they were kids. They'd had to hike about a mile to get there, so they'd been hot and sweaty by the time they arrived. They'd sat on the rocks first to take their shoes off, and the rocks had been nice and warm from the sun. It was quiet there, and the water was still. The surface was cool, but it got colder when you dove down deep.

Later, he'd have to shake his head and laugh, because the only way to describe any of it in words sounded like complete mystical bullshit, but that's what it felt like when Jake fell into Carlos. The surface of Carlos' mind, or maybe his soul--whatever it was, the surface felt cool and still, but as Jake went deeper, it got cold. As the depths of Carlos got colder, Jake got bigger and warmer. He kept going, deeper and deeper, until he finally reached something that felt like a layer of ice, a layer of ice that was also Bolivia. He remembered helping the children through the mud to what was supposed to be safety, and the memories both his and Carlos' together. They saw the flames; they felt their heat. They smelled the burning wreckage. Jake felt his pain doubled by the anguish Carlos felt, and he spread himself wide to embrace the layer of ice.

At the same time Jake was deep into Carlos, Carlos was inside Jake, too, his presence everywhere, surrounding him, a balm to soothe all the jagged edges. Jake had always found Cougar's silences comforting, but this, now…this quiet strength was everything he had ever needed. Here, where it mattered most, they complemented each other perfectly. Somewhere far away Jake could feel Max trying to compel them to do whatever it was he wanted, but it couldn't reach them.

Jake expanded to cover the entirety of the ice, pressing into it until it began to melt. As it melted, the pain diminished, and the connection between Jake and Carlos deepened. Max made some sort of last play for control, but nothing could stop what was happening. The last of the ice disappeared, leaving nothing but love and an incandescent joy that burst out of them like a tsunami.

Once the wave had peaked, Jake and Carlos remained linked, but Jake was aware of himself as a separate entity again. It wasn't like the over-the-top soul-bond fic Jake had encountered (okay, occasionally sought out) online--except in all the ways that it was. There was no telepathic link where they could speak with their minds, but their spiritual and emotional selves were still intertwined (again with the over the top mystical bullshit, but there really was no other way to describe it). 

It was easy to come to the decision that to destroy the device that had brought them together. They knew they couldn't sustain the level of connection they'd achieve without consequences; it wouldn't be safe. The device felt alien, and then there was the whole potential for evil mind control uses. It felt like the device _wanted_ to be destroyed. 

In the end, they just did what Carlos had originally intended--Jake threw it as hard as he could at the Jotuns, who weren't actually moving. Carlos grabbed a rifle out of one of their hands and shot the glowing golden ball with many bullets until it threw off a bunch of sparks, went dark, and fell into dust. Nothing happened for a few seconds after that; all of the people in the room had fallen to the ground. They weren't moving. So Jake pulled Carlos into his arms and kissed him exactly the way a fifteen year old writing soul-bond fic would want him to.

It was epic. 

They had to come up for air eventually--Jake didn't want their first mutual orgasms to be in Max's evil underground lair, and who knew how long Max's henchmen would be out. Also, he hurt pretty much everywhere except his lips. Well, his upper lip, anyway. 

Carlos pulled back first, leaving his hand on Jake's cheek. There was no need to look for the microexpressions that were Cougar's usual method of communication--everything Carlos felt was right out in the open. Jake already knew Carlos loved him, but seeing it on his face like that was incredible.

"I love you," Jake said, even though Carlos knew.

"Me too," Carlos said, smiling. "We need to get out of here."

Jake looked around. Yep, the Jotuns were still out for the count--and some of them weren't breathing. Neither was Max, who was flat on his back with a stunned expression, a thin trail of blood coming from his nose. Jake went to double check--yep, dead, hopefully for good this time.

"Carlos, did we just kill Max's even more evil twin, also named Max, with the power of our love?" Jake asked. "We did, didn't we? Holy shit, am I the demiurge? No, wait--are _you_ the demiurge? Because you have to admit that was a total Billy and Teddy in Gillen's _Young Avengers_ moment."

"Not the demiurge," Carlos said without looking up; he was busy stripping Malekith's corpse. "Billy and Teddy kissed during the battle."

"So did we," Jake pointed out. 

"We kissed _after,"_ Carlos said. 

"Okay, I see your point, but you're with me on the power of our love, right?" Jake said. He started humming--damn that Huey Lewis for writing such catchy songs--while gleefully stripping Max. "Hey, I think this'll fit you better than me," he said, handing the jacket to Carlos.

Jake ended up with Malekith's shirt and jacket and Max's pants, while Carlos had the other half of the combo. They looked ridiculous, but at least they were no longer in their boxers. It made it a little easier to keep from pushing Carlos against a random wall and having his wicked way with him. 

They didn't encounter any resistance as they made their way up and out of the evil lair--Jake had to hack the security system, but all of the henchmen or employees were dead or unconscious, just like the Jotuns. Jake was able to send a secure transmission to Stegler asking for exfil. The only response was a pingback indicating the transmission had been received. But it would be fine. Between him and Carlos, they'd be fine. 

They were at what Carlos said was the exit--an exit that led out into the Swiss mountains in December--when Jake thought to ask what day it was. "Do you even know, Carlos? Because I don't."

"Christmas Eve," Carlos said.

"Man, June and Rory are gonna kill me for this," Jake said. He started to laugh, but he had to stop when it made his ribs hurt in a way that indicated they were broken. "Merry Christmas, babe. Do you mind if I call you babe?"

"I don't," Carlos said. "Come here, and I'll show you how much I don't mind."

Apparently soul-bonding made Carlos talkative. Jake was in favor. He was even more in favor of Carlos using his mouth to kiss Jake. Carlos was as good a kisser as he was a sniper, and he was the best sniper Jake had ever seen. 

They were making out in front of the door when someone came through it, although neither of them really noticed until they heard that someone say, "What the…the Pooch did not need to see that. Cougar, put that _away,_ you're gonna scar me for life."

Jake wasn't sure, but he thought Pooch was referring to Carlos' tongue. "Carlos, look! Pooch is our exfil! You _are_ our exfil, right?" he added, looking at Pooch.

Pooch nodded. "The others are outside. Aisha's never gonna shut up about winning--are you sure you two couldn't pretend to, like, not be together for another few weeks?"

"No," Carlos said, following him out the door. "But you don't have to tell her."

"She's right here," Aisha said, showing up out of nowhere like she always did, "and as soon as we get back, you are going to pay up." 

"Pooch, we were there with you when that ray of fucking sunshine and love passed through us," Clay said from behind her. He was standing next to an ancient Mercedes van. "We _all_ know about their epic love. I'd bet half the country knows about it."

"I can't believe you _bet_ on our love," Jake said, clutching his chest, which only made his ribs hurt again. 

"It was more like we bet on when you two would finally bone," Aisha said. 

"Which I'm guessing you haven't yet," Pooch said, pointing at them. "So, again, if you could manage to wait a few weeks?"

They all piled into the Mercedes--Pooch in the front, Aisha riding shotgun, and Clay, looking supremely uncomfortable, in the back seat with Carlos and Jake.

" _Hell_ no," Jake said. "If you don't get us somewhere with food, plentiful hot water, and a large and comfortable bed soon, I can't promise we won't fuck right here in this car." Neither he nor Carlos were likely to stay awake long enough to get it on right away, but no one else had to know that.

"I know you may find this hard to believe, Jensen, but the world does not run according to your needs," Clay said.

"And more's the pity for that, but you're still not gonna stop me and Cougar," Jake promised. "Right, babe?"

"That's right," Carlos said, pulling Jake back to rest against his chest. Jake got the impression Carlos would like for them both to get a nap in while the getting was good. Jake was in favor of this plan.

Clay glared at them for a moment, but Jake wasn't fooled. No one could resist the power of love.

"Don't worry, Stegler's got a plane waiting at an airstrip a few miles from here," Aisha said. "From there it's a quick flight to London, where I took the liberty of reserving some rooms at the Savoy."

"Oooh, _fancy,"_ Jake said. "Think the shower will be big enough for both of us?" he asked Carlos. 

"We can make it work," Carlos answered, and there was that smirk that Jake had missed so much. 

"You two better not destroy anything--do you have any idea how difficult it is to get hotel rooms on Christmas Eve?" Clay said.

"It's you and Aisha who destroy hotel rooms," Jake said. "Cougs and I, we'll be fine. Although I won't be fine if I don't call my sister, so give me your phone." The power of love only went so far, after all.

END

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me either at [my fannish tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shellumbo) or [my pro writing tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sbyzmcpherson). Or you can follow either on Twitter: @shellumbo or @sbyzmcpherson. Or both!


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